


Carry On Wayward Son

by Mrs_N_Uzumaki, Supersidekick



Series: Cat's in the Cradle [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Suspense, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, am i overdoing it with the tags?, yup I'm overdoing it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-05 13:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16368707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_N_Uzumaki/pseuds/Mrs_N_Uzumaki, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supersidekick/pseuds/Supersidekick
Summary: Peter had a busy week. Between juggling patrol, finding time for his friends, bonding with Tony and prepping for the biggest science networking event of the year, he barely had the time to think about his birthday approaching. But Peter will soon realise that his balancing act will be the least of his problems.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend reading the first part of the series and working your way to this one.
> 
> This story is also available on: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13099277/1/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: No, I am not basing this story on Supernatural. I tried to find another title but I kept coming back to this song. Even though technically it’s about the singer’s music career, the theme can be interpreted to the listener. So yeah, I’m keeping it!
> 
> I just realised a timeline mistake I made in the first fic because I didn’t realise the US celebrated Mother’s Day in May, not March like here in the UK. And the second fic takes place two months after so Peter is basically going to school in July. Ah geez. I messed up big time. I thought about adding two more months in the second fic to make Peter start school in September but that would mean he would’ve passed his sixteenth on 10th of August. I dug myself a holeee ;_;
> 
> I had to go back and do some re-editing to give a reason why he’s doing it in March. See, this is why you do your research, kids.
> 
> On another non-uzu-is-an-idiot note, many thanks to all the feedback I’m getting and to those still sticking around. I’ve read some wonderful comments and reviews. You guys are keeping me going.

* * *

**Part I**

* * *

  _One week to Peter’s birthday_

Tony tied the bow on the present to perfection. He wanted to surprise his son with a little something before giving him his ‘real’ present on the day of his sixteenth birthday party a week from now. Aunt Hottie told him not to go overboard; his car may have “gone into a tunnel” when she was telling him. He didn’t need to be in the same room to see her eye roll. But Tony didn’t care; he had sixteen years to make up for.

Tony had known the kid for about a year or so yet he felt like he was growing up too fast. The other day, Peter’s voice began tapering between octaves. Peter was embarrassed every time he made unpredictable sounds in the middle of his sentences. Tony found it endearing and couldn’t help but let a light chuckle escape.

“Stop your hiding,” he had said to Peter a few weeks prior, as he pulled his hands away from the kid’s red face. “We all go through it.”

Speak of the devil… Peter made his way into the lab just as Tony hid the present behind him.

“Happy birthday!” Tony said.

Peter rolled his eyes, “You don’t have to say that every time I walk in the room. My birthday is still a few days from now.”

“But it’s your birthday week. When I was your age I used to milk it for all its worth.”

Peter sat by the table across Tony. “What did you do on your sixteenth?”

Tony grinned. “My sixteenth, God that was a lifetime ago.”

“Yeah, you are pretty old,” Peter teased.

“Watch it,” he playfully jabbed his finger at his son’s cheek. “Or you won’t get your present today.”

“Again, my birthday is in a few days.”

“Well then think of this as a little something to prepare you for the real thing. Within a budget.”

Peter blinked at him. His father’s idea of ‘within a budget’ was buying a designer jacket from Nordstrom. He was almost afraid of what Tony had behind his back. Peter squinted his eyes in anticipation as his father pulled out the gift and placed it on the table in front.

“Oh, thank God,” Peter breathed, looking at its reasonable size. “I thought you were going to get me something huge like a flashy car. Not exactly what I need to keep a low-profile, you know?”

Tony chuckled, but didn’t say anything.

“What is it?” Peter suppressed his annoyance at the change of pitching in his voice. He picked up the box, feeling how light it was beneath his hold, and began to shake it.

Tony put his hands on Peter’s to stop him. “No, don’t shake it. Just open it.”

Slowly, Peter untied the perfectly-tied bow and neatly ripped the wrapping paper. To his surprise, Peter found a digital camera. A _really_ good one.

Tony explained, “I notice you like to film and take pictures for Instagram or whatever app you kids use these days. I thought this would offer better quality than your phone. Not that my phones don’t offer the best,” he rectified. “This just focuses more on filming and pictures.”

“Oh…my God. This is the latest Canon kit.” Peter was speechless, to say the least. He shook his head, “I can’t accept this. This costs almost two thousand dollars.” He appreciated the gesture, but he couldn’t keep accepting such extravagant gifts; in his life, before Tony, people normally received presents on special occasions. To be bombarded with a sundry mix of offerings on any random day felt too generous, like Peter had to do something to deserve what he was getting but had no idea what to do about it.

“Well, it’s either this,” he pointed his head behind Peter, “or the flashy car.”

Peter thought he was joking but then he turned to the direction Tony was pointing towards and found his jaw dropping at the sight of a new, silver Audi. “That definitely cost more than a Canon. Like, a million of them.”

“It’s the latest sedan. It would cost about forty-two of them to be exact.”

Before he could stop himself, Peter hopped off his seat and strode towards the parked car. “Is this even out yet?”

“It’s a prototype. They’re asking me to test a few things out.”

“And they’re letting you keep it?”

“Correction: they’re letting me let _you_ keep it.” Tony couldn’t help smile at the kid’s excited reaction. “You’ll be sixteen; you’re going to get your permit soon so I thought you may as well practise in luxury.”

“Wow!”

“You wanna give it a test run?”

“Can I?”

“Of course! It’s gonna be yours after you get your licence anyway.”

“But I-” Peter paused. “Mr Stark, I appreciate this, you have no idea. But this is too much. I can’t drive this around in Queens. I’ll get jumped every morning on the way to school.”

“Like anybody can. Besides, I didn’t say you have to drive it to school. You can just keep it parked here until you’re off to college and then you can drive wherever the hell you want.”

The sound of footfalls grabbed their attention and they turned to find Rhodey walking into the lab, grabbing a satchel he had left behind. His eyes caught the car Tony had insisted on buying for Peter.

Tony then said, “And Rhodey will give you your first lesson.”

Rhodey halted, face moving towards his friend…to Peter…to the car.

He laughed. Then he laughed harder. And he didn’t stop laughing until he left the vicinity, his laughter still echoing down the hall.

Tony sighed. Come on, it wasn’t like he was going to crash out in the open field. “Hop in,” he said to Peter, though he didn’t need to as the boy already sat on the driver’s seat.

“What is all this?” Peter said, pointing to the numbers on the gearshift.

“It’s a manual.”

“Manual?”

“That’s what the British call it. A stick shift. Any monkey can learn an automatic; you’re going to learn the proper way to drive, not the lazy way.”

Teaching a teenager how to drive...how hard could it be?

Tony got his answer, thirty minutes later, as his voice yelled out the speeding car, “BRAAAKE!”

The car came to a screeching halt as Peter stamped down on the clutch and brake. After restarting the car several times, he finally got the hang of sticking his left foot onto the clutch before he hit the brake pedal.

Tony immediately opened the door and walked a few steps on the grass beside the road, never having been so grateful to feel the ground beneath his feet. He sat down on the spot. “I have survived palladium poisoning…explosions…alien attacks…only to die at the hands of a teenager behind the wheel.”

Peter gulped, feeling sheepish. “Does that mean the lesson is over…?”

“Scoot,” Tony deadpanned. He stood and made his way towards the driver’s seat.

“But how am I supposed to learn if I don’t practise?”

“Scoot!” Peter sighed and did as he was told. He carefully slid towards the passenger seat and placed his elbow on the window, cupping his face in defeat.

Tony closed the door and stepped onto the clutch to shift into first. He turned to Peter, a little amused at his pout. “How about we go get some ice cream?”

Feeling his mood lifting, Peter said, “Okay.”

xXx

_Five days to Peter’s birthday_

Peter rolled the bowling ball and hit another strike. MJ and Ned groaned in defeat as Gwen high-fived her teammate.

“I believe that’s three out of five,” she said in the faces of their losing opponents. She and Peter sat back down on their booth, their red and white-striped shoes squeaking against the waxed floors.

MJ glared at Ned. “I thought you said you were a champion at this.”

“Hey, I got more strikes than you did!” Ned said in his defence.

“Let’s go eat,” Peter said to save his best friend from the wrath of the MJ’s scowl.

The four of them walked down the arcade and into the café across the street. MJ plopped down next to Peter, and Gwen and Ned sat across from them. The window beside them gave a tint of the a now-orange sky, marking another summer day’s end.

A waitress with a loose ponytail and a tired smile walked up to them and provided a set of menus.

“So, Peter, you got any plans for your birthday?” Gwen asked him, not glancing up from the list of sundaes the place offered.

“No, but by the amount of people that keep asking I’m starting to think you’re all trying to make sure I _don’t_ have plans so I would attend a party you’ve set up for me.”

MJ lightly punched him on the arm. “Paranoid, much? Not too mention slightly egotistical?”

“Well, Tony Stark _is_ his mentor,” Gwen jested, then her face got serious. “Speaking of mentoring. I have something to tell you guys.” They looked at her. “I’ve been interning at Oscorp this past summer.”

“What?” Ned almost jumped from his seat. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I was going to...until MJ mentioned something about Oscorp and violating human rights, I wasn’t sure it would go over well.”

“That place was accused of several accounts of human experimentation. Not to mention, it’s just all around creepy.”

Gwen’s face scrunched up in amusement. “Creepy?”

Ned explained, “During Freshman year, our school took us to a field trip for a tour inside their headquarters. MJ was constantly complaining that the place gave her the heebie-jeebies,” he wiggled his fingers.

Peter flinched when he was reminded of the events that took place that day, the events that changed everything. He remembered being fascinated by their biology department and got separated by the group when he lingered too long, glancing up from the glass of insects and finding that he was left behind. Luckily, the rest of his school hadn’t wandered far and he quickly followed the trail towards them. His eyes could just about place Mr Harrington in the distance when suddenly he felt a sting-

“Peter?”

He shook his head when he heard his name being called. Peter looked up, “Huh?”

“Your order, genius,” MJ said as the waitress stood over them with a pen and paper in hand. In the time that Peter’s mind strode down memory lane, she had taken all of their orders except his.

“Uh, I’ll have a cherry pie, thanks.” He folded the menu and handed it over to her. Then he turned to his...girlfriend. (They haven’t had the discussion yet.) “I think it’s pretty cool that you have an internship there.”

“Really?” MJ said doubtfully. “You got sick after that field trip. Who knows what disease you caught from that place.”

“You got sick?” Gwen asked, growing concerned.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Dude,” Ned said, “you were in a coma for like three days.”

Gwen’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? What on earth would’ve caused that?”

Peter threw his friend a look that said ‘drop it, dude’ and his friend curled in on himself. “Nobody knows. Anyway. Does this place serve drinks? I’m feeling a milkshake.”

xXx

_Two days to Peter’s birthday_

May had been helping her nephew pick out an outfit for tomorrow’s events. Tony had kept his promise when he offered to tag Peter along to one of his science functions. This particular year, Tony had brought back the Stark Expo and had wanted to bring his son along, only taking the identity of an intern, to the pre-opening. He had invited the best of the best in the field and he thought it would be beneficial for Peter to make connections now to support any future he has in the science field.

“What about this?” May pointed to a black, sequin blazer.

“I’m going to be talking to the world’s best scientists. You think anybody would listen to a word I say when I’m blinding them with what Mr Stark refers to as my ‘circus garb’?”

“You bought this as part of your fancy dress costume for last year’s Halloween.” May hugged the blazer fondly, “Those were good times.”

“That will never be brought up with Tony.”

May grimaced at the memories of her swapping stories about Peter with Tony. “A little late for that.” She placed it on the bed. “What about all the clothes Tony bought you?”

“They're all back at the compound. Maybe I should just head up tomorrow and get ready there.”

“You gonna call Happy?”

“Nah, I’ll just swing by after patrol.”

May nodded, closing her lips tightly. Every time Peter had brought up the word ‘patrol’ nerves spiked up the hairs on her arms. Although she was proud of him for making a good change in their neighbourhood, she still wasn’t used to the idea that her teenage nephew willingly confronted dangerous activity on a daily basis. She knew that he had powers beyond any human capabilities, as he had amazingly demonstrated at the training facility, but he was still her child. No amount of radioactive powers or ‘sixth senses’ would ease her mind knowing that Peter would one day get caught up in something above his head and wouldn’t stand a chance until it was too late.

May shook her head. As long as he was being looked after by an avenger, she figured at least he would have backup when he would need it.

xXx

_One day to Peter’s birthday_

Spider-Man had a productive afternoon, if Peter said so himself. It only added to his already high mood of eagerly anticipating the Stark function. Not to mention, he’ll finally be at an age where he can earn a licence and drive that ridiculously awesome car his father bought him.

Okay, so he may be starting to enjoy the luxuries of having a rich father just a little bit. He’d admit it. Vigilante or not, he was still a red-blooded soon-to-be sixteen-year-old who enjoyed having cool things.

Peter webbed up a mugger that tried to aim at him with a spoon. He looked up at the guy, who was now between two narrow buildings. “Really?” he said incredulously to the masked mugger, if he would really call him that.

“I ran out of forks,” was their reply, which left Peter even more incredulous.

“Dude, just get a job.”

“In this economy?” Peter heard just as he jumped up into another building and left the man until the police got there. Karen did the honour of phoning in all the guys he caught.

Speaking of the AI... “Peter, you have an incoming call from your father.”

“Thanks, Karen. Put him through,” he said, releasing a web onto a street light to help him turn a corner.

“Hey, kid. You on your way yet?”

“Yes, sir. I just finished webbing up the most idiotic mugger I’ve ever come across.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony said, his voice laced with amusement.

Peter continued to tell his story, hearing his father’s genuine laughs on the other end. They kept the conversation brief and eventually he hung up just as he was a few swings away from the facility.

Once he planted his hands and feet on the building he crawled his way through his bedroom window. Peter set his backpack down and changed out of his suit with jeans and a hoodie. He put his suit into his backpack and shoved it under his bed. Walking into the expansive hallway Peter ended up greeting an exhausted Rhodey.

Rhodey’s hands were scraping across the hall as he kept himself upright. “Hey, kid,” he breathed out, a sheen of sweat on his brow.

“Hey, Mr Rhodey. Are you okay?” Peter knew this was part of his daily routine of helping his legs get used to the brace, but Tony always said the man had a habit of overdoing it.

He placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder as the boy helped him continue his walk. “I’m good. In desperate need of a shower, but good.” He looked at his watch. “You should be getting ready soon.”

“As should you,” Peter pointed out. Once they reached Rhodey’s bedroom Peter left him to his own device and went to the kitchen for some food. A full day’s of patrol always left him starving, and it didn’t help that the bite dialled his appetite to eleven along with his powers.

Peter pulled out more food than he could carry from the fridge. He dropped a small bottle of orange juice when Tony walked in and picked it up for him.

“You going hiking?” he mocked.

“It’s like you said, Mr Stark. I’m a growing boy.” He set the food down and started making a sandwich.

“You know they also serve food at the function, right? I don’t leave my guests with empty stomachs.”

“I don’t think alcohol counts as food.”

“I was talking about the little oyster appetisers.”

“I’m allergic to oysters.”

Tony did a double-take. “You are? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Peter shrugged, spreading mayo on one slice of toast. “Never came up.”

“Just the other day I asked if you liked rockefellers.”

“Oh! I thought you were talking about the movie.”

“That’s not even a movie.”

“Wait,” he held a knife in the air in thought, “I’m thinking of _Rocky_.”

Tony knew that his son was referring to the marathon they had last weekend. _Rocky_ was among the cult classics Tony insisted on Peter watching. He sighed and whipped out his phone. As he typed, Tony asked, “Anything else you’re allergic to?”

“Just allergy season, but that actually cleared up when I got my powers,” he said, licking sauce off his fingers.

Tony continued typing and then said, “There. No oysters at the function.”

“You really don’t have to do that-”

“Can’t risk it,” Tony said with his non-negotiable tone. “Catering is going to be serving all over the place.”

“You want a sandwich?” Peter offered as thanks.

Tony eyed the messy sandwich he was making, then shrugged and said, “Sure, why not.”

Several minutes later the three of them were heading to greet Happy by the car. Tony had insisted on Rhodey taking his wheelchair after his long walk left him knackered, but his friend instantly dismissed the idea.

Peter sat between the colonel and his father, his sweaty hands rubbing against his knees. This was his first real experience with meeting life-changers in the field of work he wanted to get into, (not counting Tony, of course). He was a bundle of nerves and excitement, and it was beginning to show on his face. Peter tried to relax because the tux he was wearing was uncomfortable, which meant it was expensive, and the last thing he wanted was to drip sweat all over a designer suit Tony went out of his way to buy for him.

“You’ll be fine, kid,” his father said beside him as if he read his mind without even looking up from his phone. “Just be yourself.”

“Nobody wants that,” Peter echoed his friend’s words from Liz’s party. He obviously didn't share the memory with Tony because now the two men beside him looked a little taken aback. “Just a little joke.”

Happy had reached the gates and drove to a building that people could only be described as cross between the Kennedy Space Centre and Disneyland.

“I could take you there if you want?” Tony said.

Peter’s face went red. Did he say that out loud?

Happy opened Rhodey’s side of the door to help him out and Tony opened the other side, Peter following. Happy wasn’t one to usually attend these events, not after he was promoted from being Iron Man’s bodyguard, “All this new-agey computer jibber-jab is your world, Tony, not mine.” Tonight, however, Tony had asked him to stay to keep watch on Peter.

Peter scoffed at the idea; he was Spider-Man, he didn’t need a bodyguard. But seeing he was a minor at an adult event, he had to be supervised and Tony couldn’t always be by his side as the host.

The second they stepped foot into the building, they were swarmed with people who were eager to greet Tony. Peter stuck to his side like glue, his father guiding him with a hand on his back and Happy lingering close by.

Pepper had spotted them coming in and walked their way. She had already been there a couple of hours prior to help set up the event and make sure there were exits in case there was a repeat of a certain incident with rogue metal. She was dressed in a one-shoulder navy blue cocktail dress and Tony stopped for a moment to relish in it. Pepper tried to hide her blush in front of the guests.

Tony had introduced Peter as his talented intern to almost everyone they came across. When they were free from the herd of people Tony had given him a tour of a few things on display at the expo. At some point they separated, Tony and Pepper indulging a few guests on the details of the engagement and Peter wanting to have a look at the food they were serving.

“Happy, you don’t have to stick by me all night,” Peter said to the man as he downed some kind of cheesy appetiser he had already forgot the name of.

“I don’t take orders from you,” Mr Bodyguard replied, his shoulders back and hands coming together at the back like a soldier’s posture.

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sorry, kid. Take it up with the boss.”

He smirked. “I admire your loyalty, Happy. I really do.”

“That just warms the cockles of my heart,” he deadpanned, still standing stiff as a board. He sniffed at the table, “Is that parmesan?”

xXx

Tony used the welcome distraction of a waitress passing by with champagne to nab a drink and slip away from the chatter of some corporal company CEO he didn’t care to make business with. Just when he thought he could breathe, dread filled his stomach at the sight of the last person he ever wanted to cross paths. Ahead, he could see Norman Osborn making eye-contact with him and making way to his direction.

Crap, now it was too late to pretend he didn’t see him.

“Norman,” Tony greeted the man, the name leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. There was something really irksome about Norman that Tony could never put his finger on. It didn’t help that he was an obnoxious rich jerk. Pepper argued that so was he, but Tony claimed it worked better in his image.

“Tony, been a while.” The two shook hands with a tight grip. “You remember my son, Harry?” A young teen with dark hair and bright blue-eyes lingered by his side.

Tony could barely remember what he had for lunch, let alone a kid he once met at a function almost a decade ago. “Of course.” He shook the teen’s hand. Ever since he had met Peter, he couldn’t help but feel a little more benevolent towards kids, especially when they seem to be around his son’s age. “How are you, Harry?”

“Good, sir,” the kid said politely. The boy was around Peter’s height, his hair was gelled to perfection and his smile looked a little more pained than genuine.

“I like what you did with the place,” Norman said, looking around as if he was noticing his surroundings for the first time since he got here half an hour ago. “No killer robots this time, at least.”

Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the shit-eating grin on the bastard’s face. He was about to give a biting remark when he spotted Peter approaching him. _Perfect timing_ , he thought. “Norman,” he said, forming a shit-eating grin of his own. “I’d like you to meet-”

“Peter!” Tony almost jumped in surprise at Harry’s sudden yell.

“Harry?!” The smile on his son’s face was palpable enough to deduct that the two knew each other. Suddenly, Tony felt out of place as he watched the two hug keenly. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen you since-”

“My dad shipped me off to boarding school?” Harry remarked, pulling apart from the hug.

Tony saw Norman roll his eyes and say, “I’m sorry for giving you the best education in the country. I’m the devil.” Then the man turned to Peter to shake his hand. “Good to see you, Pete.”

“You too, sir.”

“It’s long overdue but I’m so sorry to hear about your uncle. How’s your aunt?”

“She’s doing better. And thanks, we got the flowers.”

Something about the way he was with Peter made Tony’s stomach heavier. Tony wasn’t sure if it was the way the man knew his son’s family at a personal level or the fact that it was _Norman_ of all people. It went without saying, but Tony said it anyway. “You, uh, you all know each other?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, his arm wrapped around his friend. “We met in elementary and went to the same middle school until he left.” He said to Harry, “Freshman year wasn’t the same without you.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry grinned. “How’s Han Solo?”

Peter laughed at Harry’s nickname for Ned. “He’s doing good. We both miss you, man. Speaking of, why haven’t you been responding to my emails, lately?” The two slowly walked away from their fathers as they caught up.

Norman turned to Tony, whirling the drink in his hand. “So, Iron Man, how do you know Peter?”

“I can spot talent a mile away. As soon as I saw him I knew he was made for Stark Industries,” he said smugly. “You should’ve seen how excited he was when _Iron Man_ offered to mentor him.”

“I offered to give Peter mentoring once,” Norman said, as if this conversation suddenly became a challenge. “He turned me down to help take care of his aunt.”

Tony paused. “What?”

Norman raised his eyebrow. “His aunt, lovely woman. Quite the vision, might I add. But has a weak heart. He wanted to help around at home more.” Tony didn't let any surprise show on his face. “He’s such a considerate kid, even at age thirteen.”

Tony cleared his throat. He already knew this about Peter, he certainly didn’t need to hear it from this two-faced megalomaniac. “Yeah, but May is obviously doing well lately.”

Norman nodded. “Good. You're lucky to take Peter under your wing. He's a real smart kid. Wish he was my son.”

Tony was almost tempted to petulantly gripe back, _suck it, he's mine!_ Not to mention the man already had Harry. Norman’s greed brought out the spoilt child within Tony in ways he hadn’t felt since his early twenties.

“Excuse me.” Norman hobbled away and spoke to a few investors, leaving Tony to process his thoughts. Why didn't May say anything about her health? He thought maybe they had at least reached a stage of mutual trust between one another. He cared for her, not to mention she was Peter’s only other family he had left. If she had poor health, Tony would do everything in his power to help out.

Maybe that was why she didn't tell him. Her distaste in Tony throwing money at everything was no secret. She made it clear on numerous occasions that her and Peter didn't need money, they were getting by just fine. He reassured her that he didn't doubt that, but that she also shouldn't doubt his intentions. If she needed money for medical reasons, then by all means he would buy the freaking hospital if he had to.

Tony watched the two teens chattering excitedly by a spaceship exhibit. He downed the rest of his drink.

xXx

Peter messaged Harry back as he sat at the back of Tony’s car. It was getting late and the long day had started to catch up to him. His father, Pepper and Rhodey ultimately had to stay behind at the function a little longer. Unlike him, their aunt didn’t set them a curfew.

Peter’s mood was evident on his face. Not only had he mingled with some of the world’s greatest engineers, the universe had decided to reunite him with one of his closest friends after Ned. He did ask Harry why the emails stopped for awhile; Harry told him his email got suspended or something. Instead of dwelling on it, they opted to exchange numbers.

As they continued catching-up, Peter noticed something was off about his friend. He was a little jittery, he complained about the room being hot at times and his eyes were slightly erratic. Peter had dealt with enough criminal activity in the streets of New York as Spider-Man to spot someone high a mile away. He didn’t say anything though, consumed by the excitement of just seeing his childhood friend for the first time in over two years.

In retrospect, he should have.

Happy glanced in the rearview mirror every so often to check on the kid. “Had a good time?” he asked.

Peter looked up from his phone, sending one last message - ‘ _speak later_ ’ - to Harry. “Hm? Oh definitely. I’ve never been to one of these events before. Unless you count the annual decathlon meeting in the city.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Yeah, it’s to mark the end of a school year. The city gets its top teams together for drinks and stuff. Except nowhere near as fancy as the Upper East Side. Man, I don’t even think I ever stepped foot in that part of the city. Maybe I swung past once as Spider-Man. Although, that could’ve been the Upper West Side, it was pretty dark.”

Happy put a stop to his rambling. “So I take it you enjoyed yourself.”

Peter nodded his head so much he could be mistaken for a bobble head. “Yeah! I even got these freebies.” He pulled out a plastic bag of food he was bringing back to Aunt May.

Happy furrowed his eyebrows. “Did you bring that bag with you just to stuff a bunch of food in it?”

“Yeah,” Peter shrugged, like he did it every day. “Doesn’t everyone do that?”

Happy shook his head in disbelief, slightly entertained by this kid.

“I’m going to put it in the fridge just to keep it fresh.” He placed the bag into the car’s mini fridge. “Remind me to take out when I leave.”

“Sure. That’s what your father pays me for,” Happy said, dryly.

Peter grinned, not quite catching the snipe in the driver’s voice.

Happy continued. “So...your birthday’s tomorrow. Got any plans?”

“Aside from the surprise party Aunt May and my dad set up, not much.”

Happy quickly whipped his head back to Peter then to the front. “How did you figure it out?”

“I overheard you talking on the phone about picking up the cake.”

Happy scrunched his face. “Can you at least act surprised so I don’t get an earful from Tony?”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, Happy. I got you covered.”

That was when it happened.

Peter felt a prickle at the back of his neck but it was too late. A forceful impact slammed against the side of the car, causing Happy to try and salvage the turn. However, it was all in vain as the car flipped once, twice, almost a third time before it stood still by its side and hit the ground.

Smoke emerged from the engine and surrounded the area of the crash.

The night silenced.

* * *

  **TBC**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sorry not sorry!


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: *comes out of hiding*
> 
> So...I've been gone awhi- *avoids stones*
> 
> I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I did mention in my series notes that I was going abroad and wanted to settle before getting back into this. I had also mentioned that I completely changed the direction of this story.
> 
> With the help from my amazingly talented bestie, Meg (i.e. Supersidekick), we have finished this chapter!
> 
> I did borrow certain characters from the comics. I really hope you guys like it :)

* * *

  **Part II**

* * *

  _Peter's birthday_

_**00:01** _

Dylan had been hired to do one job. He was retired, and wanted to stay retired from this old business since he had settled down with his family and renounced his violent past a few years ago. Unfortunately, Dylan hadn't spent much time reflecting on the fact that, since he longer worked, that meant the influx of cash was non-existent. Trying to get a different job at this point seemed fruitless; he had no experience in anything but being a hired gun. Plus, the thought of putting on a suit and tie every day or having to be berated by insufferable customers at a fast food restaurant or department store felt suffocating.

However, it had been three years and Dylan was feeling the effects of being unemployed. His wife was sick and his two children were still in elementary school and had a lot of future doctor and dentist appointments left to go. If he even wanted to entertain the idea of his children going to college, he was going to have to get back in the game.

Ironically, the call came through while he was waiting in the parking lot to pick his daughter up from school. He was scratching down their budget on a slip of paper, trying to rationalise skipping meals, when his phone rang. The man on the phone didn't identify himself but he seemed to know quite a bit about Dylan, right down to the make and model of the car he was driving and what schools his kids went to.

The voice, almost mechanical, told Dylan that he could offer him an opportunity to save his wife.

Dylan, remembering the pallid colour of his wife's skin as he visited her at the hospital the previous night, agreed to become the man he used to be. One last time.

The task was simple: kidnap the man behind Stark Industries.

 _Simple_ , Dylan scoffed. This wasn't just any man. This was an Avenger.

Dylan wasn't a fan of Tony Stark. No matter how many times he claimed to "save the world" and "keep peace" he didn't buy a word of it. The glossy suit armors that Stark donned every time he went out to battle didn't fool him. After all, he was a previous merchant of death himself. The way Dylan saw it was, you could fool yourself into believing something if you tried hard enough, but the past was undeniable.

Dylan was texted a meeting point. Leaving his kids with his sister, he met a van waiting for him in a local gas station parking lot.

When he slid into the passenger seat, he was greeted by the most stoic person he had ever met. The man seemed to be younger than him perhaps, with sharp features and strays of dark hair poking from under his black cap. His eyes were shielded by a large pair of black sunglasses and he wore an immaculate three-piece suit. He hardly seemed to breathe, let alone move the entire time that Dylan was in the car with him. His voice, as he went over the logistics of the plan, was flat and emotionless.

He never revealed his name. In this business, one hardly ever did.

They would be capturing Tony at his most vulnerable state - without the armour. The opportunity would arrive when Stark reopened the expo.

"There will be a party, a gathering of associates with plenty of alcohol. Stark, unarmed and inebriated, will be driven home," Sunglasses had said to him.

Only a few days later, Dylan was parked opposite the gates surrounding the obnoxiously large building currently hosting the Stark expo.

 _We get it_ , Dylan grumbled. _You're rich._

Sunglasses was silent, with both hands resting on the steering wheel. He seemed undeterred; most likely, he had done this before as a mercenary.

"There," Dylan pointed to Tony Stark's car, a 2018 Rolls-Royce Ghost, and pulled down his ski-mask. "Target is leaving." Despite Dylan's previous vows not to get involved in this business again, he couldn't help but feel a thrumming beneath his skin, a flare-up of excitement.

They followed the car at a considerable distance for a few blocks and Dylan stole glances at Sunglasses, wondering when they were going to stop and make their move. Suddenly, Sunglasses took a sharp right turn at the stoplight, into a side street, while the Rolls-Royce moved forward.

"What the hell?" Dylan demanded, wondering why they would willingly get further away from their intended target. A sinking feeling seemed to weigh down his stomach as he realised they were circling around to the other side of the block and beelining straight for the Rolls-Royce, which was still going forward up the main road.

"Slow down!" Dylan said urgently, as Sunglasses seemed to take no heed of the red light. "You're going to crash into them!"

"That's the idea," Sunglasses replied coldly. He accelerated the car and aimed straight for the Rolls-Royce. Dylan shut his eyes, cursing himself for accepting a job offer with this lunatic.

Even though it was downtown, and at a time in the city when most people were attending parties and social gatherings, the road was clear of everyone but Stark. This clear shot gave Sunglasses the opportunity to hit the passenger side with such force that the Rolls-Royce was pushed across the intersection and hit the guardrail, nearly toppling over. The Rolls-Royce remained temporarily suspended on two wheels before finally collapsing back onto the ground on four wheels.

"Jesus Christ," Dylan exploded once he opened his eyes and had assessed that he was not, in fact, dead. "We're supposed to neutralise the driver, not kill everyone on board!"

"Get to Stark," Sunglasses said, without flinching. His hands were still rigidly set on the steering wheel. "Street cameras have been compromised."

Dylan sighed before shoving open the door, his suicidal companion following close behind. He wasn't sure how they would even get Stark out. The crash had caused the doors on the right side of the vehicle to concave. The handles of both doors were inaccessible.

Sunglasses, noting Dylan's hesitation, reached out and grasped the broken handle, yanking it aside and tossing it down the street with ease.

Dylan blinked, surprised at what he just witnessed. Sunglasses, not surprisingly, had not said much of anything besides what needed to be done for the mission. However, Dylan was fairly certain he would have remembered any mentions of superhuman strength. No matter. He realised he had bigger problems when he glanced into the passenger seat of the Rolls-Royce and saw what looked to be an unconscious teenage boy with his bloodied head lolling against his chest.

"Oh my God, this is the wrong car," Dylan said in a near-whisper, running his mind through a list of possibilities as to what they could do to remedy the situation.

Sunglasses seemed unfazed. "This is his car. That-" he pointed at the driver, draped across the airbag that had burst from the steering wheel, "-is his chauffeur."

"Are you blind?" Dylan's arm shot out, gesturing once more to the passenger seat. "This is a kid!"

Sunglasses posed, contemplative. "Take him," he instructed.

" _What?_ " Dylan shouted, incredulous.

"He is obviously important." Sunglasses shrugged, as if this development neither bothered nor excited him. "We can use him to lure Stark of his own free will. This will work to our advantage."

"Are you hearing yourself?!" Dylan exclaimed. "Kidnapping some egotistical billionaire is one thing but I can't just snatch some innocent kid." As a father, imagining a scenario similar to this happening with his own children was enough to push him over the edge. Fuck this. He should never have gotten back in the game.

"I'm sure your wife and kids can survive on that nobility," Sunglasses quipped.

Clenching his jaw against his resolve, Dylan moved closer to the Rolls-Royce. Everything about this situation was sounding alarm bells in his mind. But he couldn't afford to be cautious. His wife, his children...they would never have to know.

"If you hurt this kid-"

"We won't need to, if Stark complies."

Dylan let out a harsh breath, lowering his body so that he was halfway inside the vehicle. While his mind was racing with indecision, his hands moved with purpose, unfastening the seat belt and pulling the teenager forward, looping his arm around his shoulders. _Sorry, kid_.

Slowly, he pulled him out of the seat and into his arms, wincing at the sight of the matted blood in the boy's hair. There was no way to tell from a glance what was wrong with him but if he had been knocked unconscious, Dylan could guess it wasn't good.

He stood there only a moment, paralysed with indecision, but it felt like hours. His usual operations were far different than this: some "high-end" criminal slipped him an envelope with a photo, he glanced at it, found the person and took care of things. He had never cared who the people were before but had always drawn the line at children. At least, he used to.

Sunglasses led the way as they walked back to their much less scathed vehicle. Dylan held the teenager, one arm beneath his neck, the other beneath his knees. He was extremely light, almost easy to hold. That was, until he began to rouse.

As they neared their car, the teenager's eyes almost imperceptibly began to move beneath his lids and his fingers twitched. A low groan emanated from his throat.

"Shit," Dylan said after looking from the boy in his arms to the Rolls-Royce a few feet from them now, where the driver of the vehicle was looking straight at them and attempting to hold himself up against the dashboard.

Suddenly, the teenager's eyes snapped open and he tried to lunge from Dylan's arms, back toward the totalled Rolls-Royce. Luckily, Dylan kept a tight grip on the kid. That was no easy feat; he seemed to have an impossible amount of strength for someone of his age and size. He wouldn't be able to hold him like this for long.

"Get me the rag from the glove compartment," Dylan ordered Sunglasses, not liking where this was going but seeing no other choice. He was already involved in a situation he did not want to be in but the last thing he wanted was to further hurt the boy in his struggles to get free.

Sunglasses was quick to comply with Dylan's hasty command but not before the teenager had the opportunity to bellow from deep within himself, " _Happy_!" The resounding shout seemed to alert the driver, most likely the man the teenager was yelling for, since a gunshot rang out in their direction, missing the intended target.

Sunglasses shoved the rag into Dylan's waiting hand and he pressed it firmly against his mouth and nose while simultaneously manoeuvring the both of them inside the car. He kept a tight grip on the soaked material as Sunglasses bounded into the driver's seat and reversed in the other direction. The boy's movements had long since slowed and eventually ceased but Dylan didn't take any chances, holding the rag against him for more than a minute. When it seemed as if the young man would not stir, he carefully turned around and deposited him in the backseat, taking care not to jostle his injured head wound.

xXx

Happy's eyes shot open, as if he were awakening from a bad dream. That couldn't be. He had been driving just a moment ago, how could he have been sleeping? Something warm and wet sliding down his cheek roused him to attention. He pulling his hand hesitantly away from himself and gaped at the crimson liquid shining against his skin.

A loud roaring sound was still bellowing in his ears, overtaking his awareness. Where was he again?

His eyes floated down to the airbag that had burst forth from the steering wheel. A car. Oh, shit. Tony's car. The expo. Peter. Where was Peter? Tony was going to kill him.

Happy tried to glance anywhere else but at the steering wheel but his brain would not cooperate. He could hear a voice, one that sounded unfamiliar and nothing like Peter's.

"Take him."

" _What?_ "

"-Stark-our advantage-"

"Kidnap- innoce-kid"

Kid?

" _Happy!_ "

At the sound of his name being shouted in distress, Happy opened his eyes and remembered that Peter had been next to him in the passenger seat. With a glance, he realised Peter was not there. In the distance, he could see the teenager being held by a man that looked to be in his mid-thirties, walking toward the car that had caused them to crash. Peter was fighting determinedly to get out of his grip.

With shaking hands, Happy reached for the glovebox, knowing that he kept a Glock inside for emergencies such as these. The idea that he had rarely had to do this, coupled with the fact that he had been in a serious accident only moments ago, left him shaky and disoriented. He could barely see straight and tried to aim vaguely in the direction of the man holding Peter. He couldn't hit him with Peter draped in his arms but maybe he could scare him enough to drop the kid and leave. Unfortunately, the bullet was nowhere close to the man holding Peter or his companion. The man holding Peter seemed unfazed by the loud noise, holding something across the boy's face as he jumped back into the car.

"No!" Happy shouted, realising that the men were about to get away with Peter and he hadn't done a damn thing to prevent it. He tried to wrench himself from the car and hissed in pain as his shoulder made contact with the steering wheel. Finally, he was able to shove himself free, wrenching open the door and taking aim once more at the vehicle, which was accelerating and gaining distance. Dismayed, Happy managed to clip the driver's side mirror before the car was turning a corner and heading out of sight.

Exhausted, Happy considered attempting to start the destroyed Rolls-Royce and take off after them, but his body and mind wouldn't cooperate. He slumped to the ground, seeing spots, and reached for the phone in his pocket. He mumbled the numbers he had seen on the license plate over and over again so that he would be able to recite them as soon as Tony picked up.

xXx

_**00:15** _

Back at the expo, Tony was currently standing in a circle of Stark Industries investors, listing a few new projects he had lined up. He paused in the middle of a sentence as he felt his phone vibrating against his hip. He lifted a finger, gesturing that he would be back in a moment, and stepped out of the circle.

Tony felt a brief flash of anxiety as he saw Happy's name on his caller ID. Happy knew how important this event was to him, so the odds of him calling unless it was a serious emergency were nill.

"Happy, what's up?" Tony asked, attempting to adopt a casual cadence to his voice. He didn't want to worry himself before the man had even said a word.

" _They took him!_ " Happy replied breathlessly. "HolyshitTonytheytookhimandIgotashotoffattheircarbut-"

"Slow down!" Tony instructed urgently, walking farther away from the circle of investors. "Tell me what's going on."

"Alfa-Delta-Whiskey, 4-1-5-6. They t-boned our car on the street and grabbed the kid before I could react fast enough. God damn it, Tony, I'm so sorry." He breathed harshly into the phone before saying, "The paramedics just got here."

"Go get checked out at the hospital. I'll track the plate number." Tony clicked off the phone and bounded to a nearby exit. It wouldn't do anybody any good to start panicking but his chest seemed to constrict just the same.

"Tony!" Pepper noticed the man's departure and had been slowly gaining on him in her stilettos. "Who's at the hospital? What's going on?"

The familiar sound of Pepper's voice roused Tony, at least slightly. "Get Rhodey," he said, turning around to leave.

Pepper's hand grasped his shoulder, spinning him around to face her. "Tell me what's wrong and I'll help," she said.

Tony softened temporarily at the expression on Pepper's face. Throughout their shared history, those eyes looked back at him, displaying a whirlwind of tenacity, compassion, and understanding. Pepper always found a way to reach him when he felt lost. It was only fair that he met her halfway.

"Some very dead men walking just crashed into the Rolls-Royce and took Peter. I've just ran the licence plate." He clicked an infinitesimal button on his watch, schooling his features to allow the calm and composed demeanour that was the Stark trademark. In times of chaos, it was best to keep the panic and anxiety internalised. This time, however, Tony felt that he had some semblance of control here. Nothing was going to come between him and Peter. "FRIDAY is looking through every traffic cam within the city. I'm going to need Rhodey to suit up."

Pepper's face faltered for only a moment before regaining her composure. The last thing he needed was for someone else to panic in front of him. As Tony's assistant for many years, and eventually his soon-to-be wife, Pepper had grown accustomed to dealing with the trappings that came with it. "Get to the car."

xXx

_**00:30** _

Peter felt his head thrash against something hard enough to startle him awake. An incessant pounding beat behind his eyes and he snapped them open. His stomach, already roiling, threatened to heave when he noticed was that he was lying in the backseat of a car. The interior of the vehicle seemed to darken and blur as his surroundings took shape. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision until his focus became sharper.

It was immediately apparent to Peter that something was wrong. The material of the seat beneath his side was rough and unfamiliar - definitely not Tony's Rolls-Royce. His eyes darted from the windows - tinted, he could see out but no one could glance in and spot him - to the passenger seat, where a man with a ski mask pulled over his face was staring straight ahead at the road.

Peter felt a quell of panic rising up in his throat. He didn't need his senses to realise the severity of this situation. Whoever these men were, they had taken him forcibly from the Rolls-Royce after smashing directly into it. A brief flash of memory invaded his consciousness: _waking up in the arms of the strange man, his strangled shout for Happy, a wet rag pushed against his mouth and nose._

Despite the urgency of the situation, Peter couldn't help but take a moment to berate himself. Spider-Man getting knocked out and _kidnapped_. If the crash hadn't incapacitated him and he had been awake, he wouldn't be in this mess right now. It was senseless to blame himself for something out of his control but he did it just the same. However, after brief reflection, Peter realised that if he had been awake and fought the two men, he would have revealed his alter-ego in the process. He could almost hear verbatim the speech that Tony consistently gave him, telling him to take precautions and not be so nonchalant about his identity. At the end of the day, Peter knew he couldn't argue. He tended to be pretty careless.

Only problem was, if he had to take precautions, how the hell was he supposed to escape without arousing suspicion? He couldn't very well let them take him to...wherever they were going.

Discreetly, he pulled apart his hands and broke free from the restraints around his wrists with no effort.

Next step...next step...phone!

Peter dabbed at his pockets of his tux, his white shirt completely ruined by the matting of his blood from the wound on his head, careful as to not make any movements that would grab their attention. Unfortunately, the kidnappers were smart enough to either take it from him or leave it behind. There was no way his father could track him with it now.

Quietly, he reached for the door handle by his head and confirmed that it was indeed locked.

 _Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic,_ he told himself. There was only one thing left to do. That was to just kick open the door by his feet and jump. At the speed the car was going, it would most likely kill the average human. However, Peter knew that a combination of his reflexes, strength and healing ability would see him through. Throwing himself out of a speeding car would hurt like a bitch, at least temporarily, but it was better than staying for whatever they had planned.

He took a deep breath for what he was about to do and slammed his foot against the door.

That certainly got their attention.

The two mask-clad men instantly turned their attention to the backseat, causing the car to sway sharply from side to side as the one behind the wheel took his gaze off of the road. The abrupt movement shoved Peter's body, repeatedly slamming against the cramped backseat area. The man in the passenger seat made a quick grab for him, clawing at his shirt collar. Channelling his enhanced strength, Peter easily pushed him away. With one swift motion, he jumped out of the vehicle.

Peter rolled violently down the road only for a moment before he flipped forward, palms sliding harshly down the asphalt ( _ouch_ ). He paused, gathering himself, before leaping into the woods. He sprinted forward when he could hear the car screech to a halt in the distance.

It was as if the two men were standing right next to him as he heard the harsh exhalations of one of the men and the other saying, " _What_ the fuck was _that_?"

Peter ducked behind one tree and the next, attempting to create as much distance as he could between himself and the two men. He knew that he couldn't keep this up for much longer; he had no idea where he was, his head and shoulder were pulsating with pain and taking time to stop and collect himself was not an option. At the _crack_ sound of one of the man's boots stepping on a stick at the entrance to the forest, he nimbly leapt up the closest tree, hissing when his mangled hands made contact with the unforgiving bark. Trying his best to regulate his breathing and remain quiet, Peter stayed crouched on the highest branch of the tree.

One of the men slowly approached the area that Peter had taken refuge in, his left palm holding a flashlight, his right, a gun. "I'm not gonna hurt ya', kid," he said. "All you have to do is co-operate and we'll eventually let you go."

Peter, saying nothing, remained crouched in his position, holding both aching hands close to his chest.

"It's nothing personal. Just business," the man, creeping closer to him, continued.

 _Oh, sure, I totally get it now, let me just drop down_ , Peter rolled his eyes.

Much to Peter's relief, the man started walking further away from where he was. He shifted slightly, attempting to take some of the pressure off of his aching knees. However, he hadn't anticipated the movement to be so detrimental; the branch snapped under the sudden motion.

Peter grabbed on to the next closest branch but it was too late; the man instantly turned back around. He looked up from the direction that the branch had fallen from.

Feeling his heart beating quickly, Peter felt the same panic he had experienced back when Vulture brought the ceiling down on him. At the time, he had been able to gather strength from within himself that had seemed impossible. However, he had also had his suit and web shooters on. Balancing on a tree branch in an unknown forest, body aching, Peter had neither of those things.

Suddenly, a shot rang out in the night. Peter clapped a hand over his mouth but didn't move an inch. It was still a considerable distance from him; he was safe. That was, until another shot was fired.

"I don't want to do this," the man's voice suddenly took on a note of desperation, as if he really believed what he was saying. However, Peter had too much experience dealing with petty criminals from Queens to take anything this man was saying at face value.

When a third shot sounded, grazing a tree branch only an arms-length away from him, Peter knew that he had to keep moving. Literally throwing caution to the wind, Peter jumped to a nearby tree, managing to grasp purchase in his palms. Ignoring the blisters blooming on the underside of his hands, he jumped to the next tree and the one after that.

The cacophony of noises Peter was creating made the excellent marksman able to track his movements with ease and take much clearer shots.

xXx

By the time Rhodey made it to the scene of the crash in his suit, police cars and an ambulance were already there. Happy sat glumly on the back of the ambulance as a paramedic worked on his head.

"Happy," Rhodey said, the mask opening to reveal his face. "You okay?"

Happy's eyes widened with attention and he immediately began explaining. "I just didn't see it, they came out of nowhere-"

Rhodey stopped him with a metallic hand in the air. "Tony is tracking down the plates as we speak. FRIDAY managed to get the last trace of them on traffic cams and he's already following the trail. He asked me to check up on you."

"I'm fine," he grumbled as he pushed the prodding hand away.

"Sir, I need to patch this up," the medic told him.

"Let them do their job, Happy."

"The kid, he didn't look too good. I don't know if he'll be able to-"

"He'll be okay," Rhodey reassured him.

"His aunt? Did anybody contact May?"

"Pepper's on her way to the apartment." Seeing the distraught look on the man's face, Rhodey reassured, "This isn't your fault, Happy."

"I was supposed to keep an eye on him. I need to be doing _something_."

"The only thing you can do right now is to get checked properly at the hospital so Tony has one less thing to worry about tonight."

Happy sighed, wishing he could argue with that. "Just...when you find him, can you at least call me?"

"Of course."

xXx

_**00:55** _

Peter was pretty sure that he had lost them. A good ninety percent, at least. His senses stopped triggering nearby presences about half a mile away, but he kept going. He couldn't take any chances. Peter had managed to avoid every shot at him easily. Almost too easy, as if the guy wasn't aiming properly.

One shot did graze his forearm, however and though it wasn't a gaping wound, it hurt like hell. There was no time to dwell on how long he could hold on with the growing list of injuries he was sustaining.

Eventually, Peter made the executive decision to get down from the tree he was currently curled up within and, as gently as he possibly could, hopped down to the forest floor.

He needed to get home. Only problem was, he didn't know where the hell they drove him and the darkness surrounding him didn't help. For all he knew, they may have knocked him out long enough to drive him out of New York state entirely.

The idea that a gas station or convenience store may be nearby helped lessen the feeling of desolation Peter was experiencing. He was in pain and exhausted but at least if he made it out to civilisation, there would be someone with a phone. Slowly, he started trudging down a path, keeping himself occupied by reciting all of the new Spanish vocabulary words he had learned last week in school: _palanca, clavo, taladro, maceta, pala._

When he had run through the entire list of tools and garden necessities in his head, he realised he was walking closer to what looked like a small cabin nestled in the rear of the woods. A brief moment of elation rose in him, followed by hesitation, as he remembered all of the horror movies he and Ned had watched, especially that really old movie _Evil Dead._ He should've never begged Tony to watch that stupid movie. The laughable effects weren't so funny now.

He shook his head; sometimes his anxieties were highly unrealistic. He needed help and quickly. It would do no good to stand out here in the cold and debate with himself.

Looking around the secluded area, Peter made sure there was no sight of either man before running towards the isolated cabin. Tentatively, he knocked, looking from his left to his right and behind his back, making sure no one was attempting to sneak up on him. When there was no answer, he opened the door, eager to get inside and thankful that he didn't have to break it down. He didn't want to cause any trouble for the owner, or Tony, who had to replace Flash's car that one time.

Once he was inside, he took in the spacious living room. A sofa sit in the middle, facing a TV; two large windows on each side of the cabin and a dresser holding up a lamp by the corner. Peter immediately headed towards it and found the switch. Finally, he could see clearer amidst the darkness that had been surrounding him since the crash. He turned around to spot the kitchen opposite and his heart almost leapt with relief at the sight of a landline phone by the fridge.

He jogged towards it and lifted the corded handle, praying to any and all gods that it was working.

He was unable to discover the answer because an arm suddenly appeared in his line of vision, tightening around his throat. Another another goddamn rag was forcibly shoved against his lips.

This time, his struggles were slower and far less purposeful. He attempted to kick at whoever was restraining him, but the muscles in his legs were extremely sore from crouching all that time in the tree and his head hurt far too much to be bucking around wildly.

Eventually, his movements slowed, as he focused on one last thought:

There was a reason cabins were a running theme in horror movies.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Okay, okay, I know what you're all thinking. Goddamn it, Uzu. Another cliffhanger?!
> 
> I had not intended for that but this chapter needed to come to an end. So yeah, any feedback, even if it's a vent at the cliffie, is welcome!


End file.
